


Movie Night

by wouldyouknowmore



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Feelings Realization, First Time, Incest, M/M, Reunited and It Feels So Good, Roommates, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 08:22:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16446260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wouldyouknowmore/pseuds/wouldyouknowmore
Summary: After years of Not Getting Along, Thor is forced to move in with his little brother while tries to find his own apartment. It takes longer than expected, and the proximity has some unexpected consequences.All in all, though, things are definitely improving. The trouble is that, as much as he loves it when Loki can’t help but laugh at one of his terrible jokes, or makes him dinner when he’s had a rough day, or looks at him like he used to, like the entire universe revolves around just the two of them, he knows how unlikely it is that things will ever go back to the way they were. And just as soon as he finds his own place, all the progress they’ve made will probably be for nothing.





	Movie Night

**Author's Note:**

> For Calysta, who sent me a request and expected a couple hundred words in return. 
> 
> I SURE SHOWED YOU DIDN'T I.

“Movie tonight?” Thor asks as Loki rushes through the kitchen, his gym bag slung over his shoulder and his hair still wet. The handoff of his breakfast (the extra burrito Thor always seems to be making these days and one black coffee in a travel mug) is smooth, like they’ve been doing this for years instead of a couple weeks, though this time Loki pauses for a moment before he hits the door. 

 

“I switched to the Friday night class,” he says, hesitant. “I’ll be back late.”

 

Thor does his best not to be disappointed. Two instances don’t make a tradition, after all, and despite the progress they’ve been making lately, it doesn’t change the fact that they’d only seen each other nine times in the last decade before Thor moved in temporarily, or that they’d stopped talking halfway through high school, when Loki one day decided he hated Thor after spending their whole lives attached at the hip. 

 

“But, I mean, if you don’t mind waiting,” Loki continues then… and just like that, all is well with the world once more.

 

“I still don’t see why you can’t work out like a normal person, Lo,” Thor says with a grin. 

 

It’s a sign of just how far they’ve come that Loki doesn’t immediately snap at him for the nickname as he had just last week; he only rolls his eyes and says, “Hot yoga _is_ perfectly normal,” before he heads for the door.

 

“If you say so.”  


 

“I do,” Loki insists, then holds up his burrito, flashes Thor a quick smile, and says, “Thanks for breakfast. I’ll be back around ten.”

 

Thor nods, shuts the door after him, and is still smiling when he sits down to eat. 

 

 

———

 

 

It had been obvious when it was still fresh. Thor had missed his little brother’s constant companionship, his snark, his bony little elbows digging into his side to get his attention or when they’d wrestle in the grass in the backyard or when Loki would fall asleep in his bed, curled up in all the covers and firmly planted directly in the center of the mattress. He’d missed it like one of his lungs, like it had had left a ragged hole right in the center of his chest. He’d had it all his life, after all, and had never known anything different, never realized just how enormous Loki’s presence was until it was gone. 

 

He still doesn’t know why it had happened. All the arguments and persistence and cornering had gotten him nowhere, and around the time Thor had graduated, he’d given up trying to make Loki love him again via optimism or willpower or pleading or even unwanted, forced hugs (which more often than not earned him one of those sharp elbows straight to his ribs). The final death knell of their relationship came about a year later, when Loki moved out on his 18th birthday. And then, once he’d moved to the city, all communication had ceased, aside from awkward stares across the dinner table at the occasional Christmas or their mother’s birthday. 

 

Ten years later, Thor had almost forgotten the gaping hole Loki had left. But then the perfect job had come along, an apartment in the city had been impossible to find in time, and it turned out that Loki lived three blocks from his new office. Thor had had to get his number from their mother in order to get ahold of him in the first place, but after a brief conversation and a long pause, Loki had finally sighed, “Alright, I guess,” and here Thor is, sleeping on a godawful air mattress in Loki’s spare bedroom, digging through rentals on Craigslist every night, and walking on eggshells anytime Loki is within glowering range. 

 

Mostly. It’s getting better now, actually. Slowly. But now that the long, frigid distance between them is starting to thaw out again, it’s clear once more just how badly Thor would love to have his brother back again. 

 

They still have their problems, of course. They’re practically strangers at this point, despite several old familiar habits that still seem to be in place (Loki still pours his milk before his cereal like a goddamn psychopath and makes the same wheezy groan while he stretches in the morning). 

 

But then every so often, Thor will find Loki staring at him like he’s seeing him for the first time, brows furrowed and a frown turning down the corners of his mouth. He’d learned not to call attention to it quickly enough, after he’d asked what the deal was on the second occasion, and Loki had denied doing any such thing and proceeded to shout at him for every minor offense he’d committed for the next three days. (“Do you even _own_ any shirts, Thor? For the love of god, put one on! Jesus!”)

 

And whenever Thor forgets that Loki does not _do_ casual affection and gives him a pat on the back, or puts a hand on his shoulder while they’re talking, Loki shrinks away from him like he’s got the plague. It shouldn’t surprise him, since that had been one of the first things to change between them all those years ago, and one of these days, it’s not going to feel so personal anymore. He hopes.

 

All in all, though, things are definitely improving. The trouble is that, as much as he loves it when Loki can’t help but laugh at one of his terrible jokes, or makes him dinner when he’s had a rough day, or looks at him like he used to, like the entire universe revolves around just the two of them, he knows how unlikely it is that things will ever go back to the way they were. And just as soon as he finds his own place, all the progress they’ve made will probably be for nothing.

 

 

———

 

 

Loki’s leg is pressed against Thor’s, his warmth bleeding through those skinny sweatpants he likes so much. 

 

Thor says nothing. 

 

They hadn’t started out this way. Loki had come in with his hair halfway falling out of its bun, plastered to his sweaty face, and shouted, “Give me five minutes!” on his way to the shower, and while he waited, Thor popped a bag of popcorn, threw it in a bowl, and settled in on the couch. It had been more like ten minutes by the time Loki had joined him, but then they’d curled up on opposite ends of the sofa and gotten the movie started, and their new tradition was continued.

 

About an hour in, though, Thor had felt a nudge against his side, and looked over to find Loki sprawled over his entire half of the couch and then some. He’d always been a fidgeter, so Thor had dismissed it. 

 

But now, Loki is back upright and tucked neatly into Thor’s side, eyes on the TV and hand making occasional trips between the popcorn bowl and his mouth. He doesn’t seem to have noticed his own personal space policy violation at all, but he’s close enough that Thor could execute one of those cheesy fake stretch moves and drop an arm around his shoulders if he wanted to. 

 

… Which is an odd thing to think of, he realizes. 

 

But the point is that they’d always been pretty affectionate before the sudden downward spiral of their relationship, and right now, Thor has to admit that his little brother feels so warm and familiar this close, like he used to, and honestly? It’s sort of nice to not be treated like he’s contagious for once. It also doesn’t hurt that Loki smells amazing. Thor’s going to have to steal his body wash. … Or is it his shampoo?

 

Loki’s head is tilted his direction, and if Thor just shifts a little bit, carefully… slowly— _there_. It drops on his shoulder, his hair tickling the side of Thor’s neck, and he turns his own head to get a better sniff (which isn’t creepy), presses his nose into Loki’s hair—

 

And nearly gets a busted lip for his trouble when Loki jerks as if he’s been scalded and jumps to his feet.

 

“The hell,” Thor starts, holding his mouth, but then he sees how wide Loki’s eyes are, how he’s shifting from one foot to the other…

 

“I need to,” he says. “I have to. I have a thing.”

 

Thor doesn’t get the opportunity to say another word before Loki’s grabbing his keys and his shoes, and then the front door slams shut behind him. 

 

He should have known, he thinks with a sigh, and goes back to the movie. But it becomes clear very quickly that he has no idea what’s going on with the plot, having stopped paying attention who knows how long ago, so he turns it off and goes to bed.

 

 

———

 

 

Look. Thor understands that his brother is nearly 30 and can do as he pleases, and that he doesn’t have to check in like Thor is their mother. He gets that. 

 

But it’s been almost a day and a half since Loki suddenly took off, and Thor’s pretty sure that he hasn’t even stopped by the apartment for a change of clothes. He’d found Loki’s phone on the bathroom counter when he’d called it and followed the buzzing noises (just in time to watch it vibrate its way into the floor and crack the screen), so it’s not like he can call him. And even if he thought he really needed to go out and look for him, there’s the little issue of not actually knowing him well enough to figure out where to start.

 

On top of everything else, he still doesn’t really understand what had happened there on the couch. Yes, he’d pushed Loki’s tolerance for physical contact too far, but did that really warrant the reaction it had gotten him? Maybe not, and maybe he’s allowed to feel a little bit hurt, a little rejected even (as strange as that sounds when it’s his little brother he’s talking about)… but the bigger issue with that is Loki’s state of mind when he went tearing out of the apartment. What sort of trouble could he get himself into if he isn’t thinking straight? Which, of course, goes back to the not-knowing-him-all-that-well thing, because who the hell knows what Loki actually gets up to out there in the real world?

 

All the coffee he can drink without giving himself a heart condition won’t fix this, but Thor makes himself another pot anyway and keeps pacing the kitchen, imagining all sorts of worst case scenarios that are ultimately his own fault. He should have just sat there and been content with what he’d been given until Loki finally realized what was going on and awkwardly crept back in the opposite direction, but _no_ —

 

There’s a jingle of keys in the hall, and a moment later, Loki shuffles into the kitchen in the same clothes he’d been wearing when he left, looking like death warmed over. 

 

“Hnn,” he says, the picture of eloquence.

 

“Hm,” Thor replies to keep himself from marching over and shaking the shit out of him.

 

The dark circles under his eyes are a sight to behold, truly, but as far as Thor can tell, his eyes aren’t particularly bloodshot or dilated, so maybe he just overdid it with the gin (and isn’t actually a druggie or something, thank god), which is what he smells like… gin and smoke and… and somebody else’s cologne, he realizes. It’s not Thor’s favorite, but maybe Loki thought it was better than his unshowered self. (He was wrong, Thor thinks.)

 

Loki eyes his coffee like he’d be willing to kill for it, and since Thor has to admit that he probably needs it more, he turns the mug in his hand and starts to hold it out, handle first. 

 

It’s then that he notices the little row of hickies down Loki’s throat, leading down under his collar, hinting at more beneath it. 

 

… And he’s suddenly seized by the intense urge to track down whoever put them there and _strangle_ them. He hardly even notices the mug shattering in his grip or the blisteringly hot puddle of coffee that forms around his bare feet.

 

“What’s that about,” Loki mutters, only slightly slurring, and starts to pull his hoodie over his head. 

 

When his t-shirt rides up, and Thor catches a glimpse of a sharp hipbone, the trail of dark hair disappearing below Loki’s waistband (slung low, very low), he notices something else. 

 

There’s another mark there, just to the right of his navel and down a couple inches, and Thor desperately wishes that he had been the one to put it there. 

 

“You’re buying me a new mug,” Loki tells him, oblivious to the world-ending revelations taking place across the room, and stumbles off to bed.

 

 

———

 

 

Two weeks later, the apartment that Thor has had his eye on for what feels like forever has finally come open, and he’s got an appointment first thing in the morning to go sign the lease. What little stuff he’s had with him for the last month and some change is already packed up in boxes, ready to go, and the plan is for him to just take those with him and move in the same day. 

 

If this had happened two weeks ago, he might not have been in such a hurry. But it didn’t, and while Loki stands at the sink, scrubbing what’s left of breakfast off their plates, Thor idly wonders what it would be like to back him up against the counter, kiss the coffee taste from his lips… push the dishes out of the way and lift him up onto that granite countertop he’s so proud of. He wonders if Loki would wrap his legs around his waist right away, if he’d gasp Thor’s name against his lips—

 

“Thor!”

 

He snaps out of it with a jolt, and nearly knocks his mug over in the process. 

 

“What?!”

 

“Don’t you ‘what’ me,” Loki gripes. “You’ve been zoned out for five fucking minutes. I _asked_ if you wanted to watch another movie tonight before you go, but maybe you’d be content with just staring at the kitchen cabinets for two hours.”

 

Oh, that is so _not_ a good idea, he thinks, remembering how the last movie night had gone. This little obsession of his has spiraled wildly out of control since it set in, and the thought of Loki worming his way over on the couch, in the dark, in those skinny goddamn sweatpants is a dangerous one. He’s nearly given himself away too many times already.

 

But it _is_ his last night in Loki’s apartment (a blessing and a tragedy all at once)… and before he had to go off and make this whole thing _weird_ between them, on his end at least, he really had thought that Loki enjoyed movie night. It would be shitty of him to say no just because he’s turned into a creep. 

 

“We can do that,” he says, clearing his throat.

 

“Stare at the cabinets? No, I’m good.”

 

“The movie, Lo.”

 

“Don’t call me that.”

 

 

———

 

 

The movie is halfway over, and Thor isn’t entirely sure what it is they’re watching. Because Loki is within touching distance and drawing ever closer, almost as if he’s gravitating toward Thor without even knowing it. Belatedly, Thor wishes he’d put one of the throw pillows on the Loki side of him, just to act as a barrier, but he hadn’t, and the next little shift in Loki’s position brings with it a torturous touch of skin on skin—Loki’s elbow against Thor’s side where his shirt has bunched up behind him.

 

Thor tries to swallow around the lump in his throat and risks a glance out the corner of his eye. 

 

Loki’s eyes are glued to the screen, but while Thor watches, he reaches back to straighten out his own t-shirt and accidentally brushes against him again—and immediately darts a look in his direction that Thor only just manages to avoid. When he looks back, hoping it’s safe to do so, Loki’s ear is bright red where he pushes his hair behind it, and the flush starts to spread across his cheek. 

 

_No_.

 

It can’t be.

 

Luckily the volume is up high enough to drown out the frantic pounding of Thor’s heart, surely audible while it tries to burst out of his chest. And it only gets worse when he thinks back on all the times that Loki has pushed him away, snapped at him for invading his space and all the casual affection… the times that Loki has stared at him…

 

_How long?_ he wonders, dumbfounded, but he already knows the answer to that question, and it makes him ache almost physically to admit it to himself. God, what Loki must have gone through all this time. No wonder he’d kept Thor at arms’ length or further. Thor has only been dealing with this for a couple weeks, and he’s already about to lose his mind… of course, he’s begun to suspect that his newfound fixation wasn’t as sudden as he had thought originally, but that’s a soul-searching session he’s been putting off for another day (aka never). 

 

But Loki is stretching again, and once he settles back into the cushions, he’s a full three inches closer than he’d been before, and his thigh is pressed to Thor’s once more. 

 

Thor, however, is stuck.

 

He knows now, if he’s read the situation correctly. And while he’d like nothing better than to lean over and plant one on his little brother, the fact of the matter is that last time Thor got too close, Loki had panicked, run, and shacked up with some random dick for half the weekend. No, if he’s going to make a move, they’re going to have to talk first, get this out in the open before he just up and gropes him or something.

 

But how is he supposed to bring this up? And what if he’s gotten it wrong, and Loki isn’t into him? Or worse—what if Loki _is_ , but he turns him down anyway because they’re brothers and they _shouldn’t_ … and oh god, they really shouldn’t…

 

Tomorrow he leaves, though, and then how long will it take before they’re back to only seeing each other once a year? How is he supposed to live with that, knowing that he could have done something about it right here and now? 

 

He can’t let this opportunity go, so he takes a deep breath and speaks up.

 

“I’m sorry, Loki.”

 

Loki says, “For what?” without looking away from the TV.

 

“For what I must have put you through when we were kids. I didn’t know.”

 

Rolling his eyes, Loki throws him a skeptical look and turns back to the movie. “All siblings put each other through hell, Thor,” he says. “But you were great. You were always great.”

 

He’s doing an awful job of this so far, he thinks. But he turns, angles himself toward Loki, and very cautiously touches his shoulder before he pulls his hand away, just in case.

 

“I’m saying I _get_ it now,” he tells Loki once he’s got his attention.

 

It takes a moment, but then a look of horror slowly creeps across Loki’s face, his eyes well up… and Thor silently congratulates himself on being the biggest asshole in the universe.

 

“Christ,” Loki whispers before Thor can say anything else, and then he’s scrambling to his feet,but Thor grabs him by the shoulders and keeps him from running.

 

“Just wait,” he begs, “let me say this, let me just get it out, and then I’ll do whatever you want, okay? I’ll leave, I’ll go sleep on a bench in the park if that’s what you want, and you’ll never have to talk to me again.”  


 

“I don’t—,” Loki starts, shaking, and a tear slips down his cheek. Without thinking, Thor brushes it away, cups his face in his hands. He’s fucking this up, he knows, but he’s got to get it out somehow, and it’s not like he got the chance to think this through ahead of time.

 

“I love you, Loki. You’re my brother, and I’ll always love you.”

 

Loki flat out sobs at that and tries to get up again, but Thor doesn’t let go. He just thumbs away the tears while Loki manages to get out a miserable, defeated, “… But?”

 

“But it’s more than that.”

 

Loki stares, still shaking, so Thor repeats himself, and then the rest comes spilling out along with it. 

 

“It’s more than that. I want you, and there is nothing brotherly about it. It’s all I’ve thought of for weeks… how your lips look around the rim of a bottle when you take a drink, the noise you make when you stretch, the smell of you—hell, even when you come home from your stupid hot yoga and should be disgusting, but you’re _not, ever_ , and… And when you came home that night all marked up, I wanted to go track down the piece of shit that touched you and—but god, I wanted to be the one that got to touch you even more, to spread you out and make you feel as amazing and loved as you are…”

 

By the time he trails off, Loki’s eyes have dried, and Thor suddenly notices that his face has gone disconcertingly blank, unreadable.

 

Shit. He’s gotten this all wrong.

 

“Is that it?” Loki asks, and Thor lets go of his face, stricken. “Are you done?”

 

“… Yeah. I guess I am.”

 

“So you’ll do whatever I want now, right? That was the deal.”

 

Thor wishes the couch would swallow him whole, but since that’s unlikely to happen, he says, “I’ll just get my stuff,” and starts to get up. 

 

He doesn’t get far, though, because Loki snaps at him, “Did I say that?” 

 

Maybe if he just stuck his face between the cushions, the couch would smother him. That would be good enough. 

 

“No,” he sighs. “I just… What do you want me to do, Lo?”  


 

Loki’s been perched at the edge of his seat since he’d first tried to get up, but now, he eases back in, slowly, toward Thor and half-whispers, “Kiss me.”

 

Thor gapes. But the stretch of several long seconds that it takes him to decide that, yes, Loki really had said that is also long enough for Loki to start looking a little desperate, and so Thor wastes no more time. 

 

The first press of his lips against his brother’s is clumsy, slightly off-center in his haste. But they try again, and everything slots into place as though it was always meant to be this way. Thor can taste the salt of Loki’s tears when he touches his tongue to Loki’s lower lip, and then Loki’s opening up to him, dragging him in close with his arms wrapped around his neck. His knee is digging into Thor’s thigh almost painfully, but he can’t be bothered to care, because the slide of their tongues, the sharp edge of Loki’s teeth, his quiet, shuddering breaths are all his world is reduced down to for the next several minutes. 

 

It’s all new and terrifying and exciting, but more than anything, it feels like coming home, even though they’ve never been here before. This isn’t just misplaced lust, that much is clear, and Thor has to pull away and catch his breath when he understands how deep this really goes for him… and he frantically hopes that Loki feels the same way. 

 

Loki’s cheeks are wet again, though, he realizes, and he drops one more gentle kiss at the corner of his mouth before he pulls back to look him in the eyes. 

 

“Lo, don’t please… it’s alright,” he says, but Loki just shushes him and wipes at his face.

 

“I’m fine,” Loki insists, sniffling hard. “It’s just stupid… I’m great, though. I don’t want to stop.”

 

His eyes are a little swollen and red, along with his lips, and as Thor takes in the helpless, pleading look Loki gives him, it occurs to him that no matter how much he needs Loki to love him too, no matter how deeply, he already _does_ , and has probably been desperate for the same thing for years.

 

“Me neither,” Thor says, and drags Loki into his lap. 

 

Loki kisses _him_ this time, hard enough to hurt just a little. From there, it only grows more urgent, and Thor has _got_ to get his hands on him, under his shirt and over his ribs, feeling the wiry muscle and bone beneath his skin… and then Loki shifts, and there’s a hard line pressing against Thor’s stomach—and _fuck_ , he’s got to do something about that, too.

 

_“Shit,”_ Loki hisses when Thor slips a hand down the front of his sweatpants, “shit, shit— _Thor_ ,” and Thor would guarantee that he’s never heard anything so wonderful in his life, though the top spot is taken moments later when he gets ahold of Loki’s cock, hot and heavy and perfect, and Loki whines like he’s been punched in the gut. 

 

He keeps his wrist moving in slow, steady strokes while Loki swears and pants and presses sloppy kisses against his lips and jaw, hitching his hips like he can’t help himself. Thor gets it, though; every time Loki rocks into him, he brushes against Thor’s erection, straining in his own pants, and it’s too much and not even close to enough all at once. But of the two of them, Loki’s been waiting so much longer, so Thor ignores the curl of heat low in his belly and pulls Loki’s sweatpants down as far as he can get them with his legs spread this way, ups his pace, and slips his other hand beneath Loki’s balls to nudge at his hole.

 

Loki sinks his teeth into the side of Thor’s neck, but Thor can’t say that he minds at all.

 

What he wouldn’t give for a little lube, he thinks, but if Loki’s ragged breathing is any indication, he’s far too close to stop now. And when Thor pushes again, just hard enough to feel the skin beneath his fingers start to stretch and give, Loki’s cock jerks in his hand, and he comes, Thor’s name on his lips and his fingers fisted in his shirt.

 

Loki slumps against him, boneless, and Thor holds him close, breathing in his scent and relishing the contact. But just when he starts to think that maybe his need can wait, maybe he’ll just stay here and enjoy Loki’s weight and warmth against his chest, Loki stirs and pulls away. 

 

_Oh well_ , Thor thinks to himself—

 

And then Loki slips into the floor between his knees.

 

“Loki,” Thor starts, reaching for his shoulders. He doesn’t know what he means to say after that, though, because the sudden surge of arousal leaves him almost dizzy, and then Loki’s pushing his legs further apart and pulling his cock out, and Thor has never in his life been this hard. 

 

“Do you know how long I’ve been dreaming about this?” Loki asks him, looking up through his lashes. 

 

Thor’s cock twitches at that, pulses out a bead of precome. It doesn’t escape Loki’s notice, either, right there in his face, and he keeps his eyes on Thor’s as he leans in and laps it up. 

 

(He’s done Loki a terrible disservice in all his fantasizing, he sees now. He’s clearly underestimated his little brother, because this is beyond anything he’s ever imagined.)

 

It’s hard to keep still when Loki begins, covering Thor’s cock with soft swipes of his tongue, almost too gentle to stand, but then he moves on and tries to swallow him down in one go, and Thor can’t hold back a shallow little thrust into that wet, devastating heat. Loki takes it, doesn’t so much as blink, and fuck if that doesn’t make him want to do it again, but then there’s a hand pushing against his hip, holding him down, and he whispers an apology. 

 

Loki just pulls off with a _pop_ , drags the back of his other hand across his swollen mouth, and says, “Next time,” in a hoarse voice before he dives back in.

 

It’s a miracle that Thor doesn’t come on the spot. He’s glad he manages to hold out, however, because the sight of his little brother’s lips wrapped around his cock, his cheeks hollowed, chin wet and shining along with his dark eyelashes, is the hottest, most mind-blowing thing he’s ever seen. He isn’t superhuman, though, and once Loki starts sucking hard on what he can fit comfortably in his mouth and working the rest with his hand, it doesn’t take long for it to build up and leave him a panting, sweating mess. 

 

“I’m close, I’m… fucking close,” he breathes, digging his nails into the cushions to keep from grabbing Loki instead, but if he thought that Loki might back up and finish him off with his hand, he’s never been so glad to be wrong. His brother just keeps to his current course, but darts a glance up at him, and then it’s finally too much.

 

Loki takes it all without so much as a drop spilled, his throat working as he swallows, and Thor can only look on in blissed out amazement as Loki draws back and licks his lips, his eyes fluttering closed like he’s savoring the taste. 

 

“How long you need,” Loki eventually asks, low and rough from the floor, leaning against Thor’s leg for support, but Thor’s capacity for rational thought hasn’t quite caught up yet. 

 

“Wha…?”

 

“Before you’re ready to go again,” Loki clarifies, and uses Thor’s knee to help him climb up out of the floor. “Because you’re definitely fucking me at your earliest convenience.”

 

Thor groans, and prays for strength.

 

“Don’t worry. We’ve got all night.”

 

This statement is delivered with an expectant look, and when Thor can only gape at him, Loki pulls his shirt off and starts toward his bedroom, saying, “Come on, or I’ll start without you.” 

 

“You realize I have an appointment across town first thing in the morning, right?”

 

“Are you sure you want to sign that lease?”  


 

All his things are still boxed up and stacked next to the front door, and Thor stares at them, thinking of how hard he’d fought for that apartment. And then he thinks of shared breakfasts and popcorn and movie nights to come. 

 

He turns back to his brother, now standing just outside his room, bare from head to toe and backlit by the soft glow of a lamp on his bedside table… his narrow waist, the curve of his ass, the knowing look in his eyes…

 

(And it seems he didn’t really need that long after all.)

 

“I don’t guess I do,” Thor says, and gets up from the couch.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on tumblr [here](http://wouldyouknowmore.tumblr.com), and keep an eye out for my Big Bang, coming November 8 :D


End file.
